Greed, Grief, and The Choices of a Lifetime

As most of you already know, my daughter, Beth and I have just returned from a working trip to the high desert region of California. My sweet mother-in-law passed away last May and due to other family matters it has taken us a year to make it down there to clean out her home. The weather is also a factor because I cannot tolerate heat or sun. When we left home it was drizzling here in beautiful, green yet soggy Oregon. The contrast to the high desert is startling. Yucca trees, a few evergreens and lots of brown greeted us. It was also 90 degrees. I got out the sunscreen but still have many fever blisters. You all know I have trouble sitting, and had to go to the hotel and just lie down after the trip. We had drawn row 12 on our small commuter plane and got stuck right in front of the emergency aisle so we weren’t able to recline at all on the flight. We had to travel about an hour from the airport and gees, the way the folks drive in CA, I had forgotten. I lived there for many years but forgot that 80 mph is the norm. I’ve become a bit of a country girl.

When we arrived at my MIL’s home the next morning, it was a lesson in emptiness. Certainly, the house was full of “stuff.” Much of it used to be cherished, loved and well cared for. Now, without MIL or my husband’s only sister who passed away from cancer several years ago, the house no longer felt like a home. Fine sandy dust covered the floors, some of the wallpaper was peeling off the walls from the heat and there were signs everywhere that mice had moved in. All of the once cherished possessions sat there, lifeless without the people who had bought them, received them, loved them and kept them clean. There was a sense of loss so profound it was like walking into a tomb. I was relieved that Beth and I were there and not my husband. His pain would have been overwhelming.

We knew we had three working days as we would be traveling the other two. I was exhausted from the flight but knew we had to dig in. Cleaning was not a priority. Thanks to a dear high school friend I had not seen in 50 years, we had contacted an auctioneer who, my friend informed me, would take care of all the cupboards. All we had to do was choose what we wanted to ship home to Oregon and handle any personal matters. Three large closets were filled with clothes and treasures. Walls of dining room cupboards held china of all sorts, cups and saucer collections and there were display cases filled with hundreds of collectibles. Once so loved and valued, now covered with dust and seeping with neglect. We sat to work, first chore, more or less dehumanizing the house. I dumped bathroom drawers into trash bags, cried when I saw Mom’s hairbrushes, while Beth tackled the closets. Bathroom contents were going to the trash, closet contents, with the exception of any family pictures or treasures, were destined for the Salvation Army. About the time we got started, I heard the sliding patio door open and a neighbor who I had never met, but had talked to on the phone, walked in wearing her bathrobe.

Now, let me tell you about this neighbor. Apparently, because she had been Mom’s neighbor for many years, she felt she had the right to just hop on into the house and tell us how to do everything. She started by telling me not to throw away half a bottle of German cologne which she had given to Mom. She wanted to tell me the history of the cologne, how I should keep it and most of all the many wonderful acts of kindness she had performed for Mom. I realized immediately if I listened to this elderly, befuddled former Nazi youth (no kidding!) that all of our time would be lost. We had such a deadline my stomach was in knots. I offered her the perfume; she didn’t want it. I gently and politely explained to her about our limited timeline. She didn’t care and just kept talking. I turned my back on her which I never do to anyone, hey, I’m a nice person. I was facing a nightmarish situation as well as a nightmare of a neighbor. I took her arm and told her to pick out something she wanted…anything. She took a few things including a lovely imported pitcher. I would have offered her more to get rid of her. Beth and I both kept working; she finally left and announced she’d be back in the afternoon. As you can imagine, we really looked forward to her return. We filled about 14 or 15 huge bags with clothing, shoes and purses to donate. Naturally, we searched all bags and pockets in the process.

My old friends arrived and promptly started to help us look through and pack jewelry. My friend’s dear spouse went through the large shed in the backyard and helped Beth go through the many boxes stashed out there. Many were empty but many were filled with expensive collectibles…in an unlocked shed. There was even Waterford crystal out there. Dusty, dirty, warped boxes that had once held Christmas presents, birthday gifts and treasure, some empty some filled and he and Beth brought them all inside. My friend, who makes some jewelry and had attended many classes filled boxes of it, separating out the costume from the “good” stuff. Every drawer, closet and wall held objects to be evaluated by us and decisions to be made. The sheer volume of the “stuff” albeit good “stuff,” was overwhelming for both of us but we kept reminding each other just to take it one drawer, one cupboard and one task at a time. The task was so monumental it had to be taken slowly and with care.

We did have some laughs and heartaches by many old pictures of family members, Jim’s old report cards from his Catholic school where he seemed to have a problem with deportment but did well in all other subjects. Heck, he still hasn’t conquered deportment. We found three lovely old quilts which we both loved, a pair of baby rompers that Jim, as an infant had worn through the knees and so many treasures of a family of four who had lived, loved and relished the good times and bad. All treasured family memories are coming home with us. I chose a few lovelies to bring home but left most to be sold at the estate auction.

The tiresome neighbor and I finally came to “blows” when she told me she could come and go as she pleased because she was a friend of my MIL’s and it was her house. I had to not too gently tell her it was now my husband’s house and therefore mine. I hate that sort of thing but she pushed me beyond my forbearance. As the days wore on she wanted more “stuff.” I gave her more and when she kept it up I told her to come to the auction and led her to the door.

I really like the auctioneer. He is very experienced and well worth his commission. He will set up 100 tables outside, put all the furniture on blocks so no one can just sit there. He has a great deal of help and obviously recognized and knows the values of various collectibles. We’re even auctioning off her car. We don’t need it. The sale will take two full days and when I asked him what he will do with the leftover items he replied, “Oh, I never have leftovers.” He puts something valuable in a box and the buyer has to buy all the junk along with it. This guy is amazing. He will even sell the wine half barrels outside, the dog food, garden statues, TP, laundry soap…well, everything. I know he has an excellent reputation for honesty, fairness and professionalism. My friends know him well. Another high school friend, well, actually a friend from childhood drove out to see us for a couple of hours. She’s always been a great friend. It was a nice break. Jim’s 88 year old uncle, Mom’s last sibling came to visit and was delightful. He laughed himself almost silly from the way I had to handle the neighbor. He said, “I’ve never heard ‘No’ said so sweetly in my whole life. You deserve a medal.” He really misses Mom.

The whole experience served as a clear reminder that we don’t live forever and the important things we leave behind are valuable only if they have love and memories surrounding them. We’re shipping home boxes of family pictures and beautiful objects sewn by Jim’s grandma. There’s a cedar chest my husband remembers always being there, long before he was born. I don’t know where we will put it but it matters to him. It’s not an easy task to choose the material memories of many lives lived.

On a humorous note I must tell you that the half of the jewelry Beth and I carried home on the plane, having left behind a whole orange crate full of costume jewelry. We were packing it all into our carryon luggage the last night at the hotel and had ring boxes, jewelry boxes, etc. spread all over the bed. I told her, “We can’t just throw these into the trash here in the room. I’m afraid if there’s been a jewelry store robbery in the area they’d come after us.” The next morning we found a dumpster outside the airport.

Okay, my saga is finished. Now Jim will go down and hopefully leave the house for the sale as our son is coming out to distract and comfort him for a few days, from Texas. Now, I have this overwhelming urge to clean out our basement but just don’t have the energy left to do it. Later…I’m sure there will be more to tell.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sue Falkner-Wood

Sue Falkner-Wood is a retired registered nurse living in Astoria, Ore., with her husband, who is also an R.N. Sue left nursing in 1990 due to chronic pain and other symptoms related to what was eventually...read more